


beating out of my chest (my heart is holding on to you)

by philindas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M, Love Confessions, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 22:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: He has his prosthetic gripped in the fingers of his real hand, kneading it unconsciously, his gaze somewhere far away and unfocused. In the chaos of the moment, Melinda hadn’t stopped to think what the trauma would do to Phil’s own PTSD, but the evidence was clear and in front of her right now.





	beating out of my chest (my heart is holding on to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Phil gripping his fake hand in the background of the Daisymack hug really broke my heart, and some of my friends on twitter mentioned how they would have liked to see Melinda take Phil's hand in hers, so- here's my take on it. Title from The Light by Sara Bareilles.

She feels sick, deep in the pit of her stomach.

Jemma- who is not a surgeon, not even close, but they can’t risk a hospital, not with their names at the top of the most wanted list- is working tirelessly on Elena two rooms over. Mack stands like a statue a few feet away; Melinda’s fairly certain he hasn’t moved since he’d set Elena down and Jemma had set about saving what she could of Elena’s arms.

Her gaze moves to Phil, and her heart sinks to her toes.

He has his prosthetic gripped in the fingers of his real hand, kneading it unconsciously, his gaze somewhere far away and unfocused. In the chaos of the moment, Melinda hadn’t stopped to think what the trauma would do to Phil’s own PTSD, but the evidence was clear and in front of her right now.

They all look up at the sound of footsteps, Daisy’s slight form bursting into the room- she wraps herself around Mack, and the older man returns the hug, allowing the comfort of his partner. Melinda looks at Phil again, chest aching, and steps closer, reaching out and brushing her fingertips over the back of his hand.

His chin tips up, blue eyes looking at her- they’re dark and unreadable, and her hand slides more firmly over his until she can pry his fingers off his fake hand and turn it, twining their fingers together. She squeezes gently, invading his space just a little until they’re standing together, her face a few inches from his.

“Come with me,” she requests quietly- Phil’s eyebrows knit together, but he nods slowly and allows her to guide him away from Mack and Daisy until they’re in a tucked away alcove, away from the team.

Phil falls apart as much as he ever allows himself- uneven breathing, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hands clenched into fists and jaw so tight it pops the vein in his neck. Melinda gives him space, watching carefully until he gasps, tears leaking out of his eyes and such a lost expression on his face that it tears her heart to shreds. Then she steps forward, palm over his heart.

“Breathe, Phil,” she reminds him softly, using her own inhalations as a guide. “In and out- slowly. With me.”

It takes time- the seconds blend into minutes, their eyes locked together until Phil’s breathing is even and his grip on her wrist is merely a grounding touch, not a desperate one.

“Thanks,” he whispers hoarsely, and Melinda shakes her head, lifting her free hand to stroke his cheek, his stubble coarse against her fingers.

“I could see you fighting it,” she tells him, moving her touch to the soft skin below his eye, feeling him sag into her soft caresses. “I didn’t think about how badly this would affect you until I saw you touching your hand.”

Phil’s gaze drops to his prosthetic, and Melinda carefully moves the hand in his grip to touch the fake hand, caressing the synthetic skin.

“You never actually dealt with the trauma of it,” she says, watching his face carefully. “You lost your hand, and you just- kept going. Kept pushing. I think- I think you need to face it. Now. For Elena.”

New tears form in the corners of Phil’s eyes, and Melinda’s chest fills with hurt for him.

“I never wanted any of them to feel this. Not what I felt. And now- and now it’s double, for her. How can I help her? How can I fix this?” Phil asks, voice low and broken, filled with sadness. “I’m supposed to lead this team, and it seems like at every turn, all I do is bring them pain.”

Both of Melinda’s hands slid to cup Phil’s jaw, stroking the bone lightly as she shook her head.

“Everyone on this team looks to you for strength whenever the future looks dark,” her words are soft, her eyes even softer as she looks up at him. “Elena is going to wake up in a whole new world, Phil, and you’re going to help guide her through it. She needs you. They all need you.”

There’s a pause, and her thumb brushes lightly over his lower lip.

“ _I_ need you,” the whisper is so soft it almost catches in her throat, but she knows he hears her when he freezes, looking down at her. “You’ve saved me so many times I’ve lost count. I can’t do this without you, Phil. You’re…”

She trails off, words stuck on her tongue, but Phil’s hands on her arms squeeze gently, encouraging her. Taking a breath, there’s a moment where everything stands still before she speaks.

“You’re part of my heart, Phil,” she says, words clear as day in the small space. Somehow, they’ve gravitated so nothing is between them, her elbows against his chest and his hands on her arms, holding her against him firmly. Her palms still cup his face, fingers soft against his cheekbones. “I love you. I’m tired of running from it.”

Something small and warm settles into place inside her, and Melinda feels at home in the words that settle around them like a warm blanket moments before Phil is pulling her forward. His mouth fits against hers just like it was meant to, lips warm and stubble scratchy and hands pressing against her lower back to hold her perfectly in place against him. They slot together just like she’d always imagined, and her hands move from his cheeks to wrap her arms around his neck, holding her against his taller frame, and she sinks into him.

When they break for air, she follows him, kissing him again simply because she can- her lips curve into a small smile when their eyes meet, and every part of her feels warm and safe and cherished as he holds her tightly.

Phil’s nose brushes against hers, his forehead sinking down as his eyes closed, palms large and warm through the fabric of her shirt at her back.

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispers, stroking her fingers over his neck. “We’re together. We’re home. This is all that matters.”

Phil is quiet for a few long moments before he pulls back, looking at her with eyes dark with exhaustion but shining with affection and trust and pure, unadulterated love so thick it takes her breath away.

“I’ll never be worthy of this. But I love you,” there’s an odd sort of finality to the words, like he’s meant to say them for so long that rather than starting a new chapter they finish a story they began long ago, and Melinda’s palm settles over his heart once more. “You’re everything, Melinda. Please remember that.”

He kisses her once more, long and slow and filled with something she can’t name. Melinda sways a little when they part, and they both turn at the footsteps.

“Jemma’s done,” Daisy says, eyes red. “Mack’s with Yoyo. She’s-”

An explosion sounds from somewhere below, and all three of them look at each other in horror.

_“Fitz.”_


End file.
